


Groundless

by sleepydanceur



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepydanceur/pseuds/sleepydanceur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mama Powers!AU. But then Jongin has always looked at Kyungsoo like there’s nothing else in the world he could possibly turn his eyes to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Groundless

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : Written for the [forjongin exchange](http://forjongin.livejournal.com/). Giant thanks to Teddy for all her help <3\. I wanted to stay consistent with the tenses so basically anything between the arrows is a memory/flashback from the past.

“What time is your mum expecting us tonight?” Kyungsoo asks, soaping up the dirty plate in his hands before dousing it under the tap water. They’d just spent the afternoon making a batch of cookies together from scratch, both with their sleeves rolled up to their elbows as they kneaded and rolled out the dough.

Jongin glances up at the kitchen clock before answering. “In a couple of hours.”

Kyungsoo nods, soaping up another bowl. “Your mum’s fine with us getting there through my tunnels, right? I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach dinner if you warp us there.”

Jongin’s hand freezes where he’s scrubbing a plate dry, just for the merest fraction of a second, but Kyungsoo catches it.

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo’s hand stops wiping the bowl in his hand, letting the water run as he turns to look at him. Jongin lifts his eyes and cringes at Kyungsoo’s sharp intake of breath, eyes dawning with comprehension.

“You haven’t told them, have you,” he whispers, letting the bowl drop into the sink with a loud clatter as he gapes at Jongin. “About my earth moving? About…us?”

Jongin tries to say something, _anything_ , but his voice fails him, simply staring helplessly as Kyungsoo runs a hand through his hair roughly.

“About _me_?” Jongin hears him whisper, the slightest quaver in his voice; “Jongin…does your family even know I exist at all?”

“I was just trying to find the right– ”

“The right time?” Kyungsoo cuts in, “We’ve been together for two years!”

“I know, I’m…I was just sc—”

“Are you that ashamed of me?” Kyungsoo cuts him off again, his voice hoarse as he grips the rim of the sink so tightly, his knuckles go white.

“No!” Jongin cries immediately, “That’s not it at all, Kyungsoo, please—”

“We’re…I asked you to marry me,” Kyungsoo’s voice breaks just as his shoulders slump, looking terribly defeated. “Did you even mean it when you said yes or did you feel obliged just because I got you a ring?”

“Hyung,” Jongin chokes out in a hurt voice, Kyungsoo’s words lashing at his chest like a white hot whip.

“Then what is it, Jongin? _Why_?” Kyungsoo shoots back, desperately searching for an answer in his eyes.

_Because I’m scared, because they might ruin it, because they’ll make me rip you away, because I’m weak, I’m so, so weak it kills me._

There’s a lump forming in his throat and he opens his mouth to explain but he falters, because _how_ can he put it into words?

Kyungsoo’s face crumples and his hand falls away from the sink limply.

“I—I guess I’m not enough then,” he murmurs, taking a step back, away from Jongin. “I guess I should just leave.”

He backs away and slips out of the room before Jongin can stop him, hearing the click of door to their shared bedroom seconds later before leaving him enveloped in the stifling silence. Groaning softly, Jongin falls to his haunches, pressing the heel of his hand into his eyes until there’s explosions of white behind his closed lids. He needs to fix this. He needs to tell him that he’s wrong because Kyungsoo is _everything_ , that Jongin is just a spineless idiot who probably doesn’t even deserve him, but he _wants_ to, more than anything in the world.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jongin straightens up and pads his way quietly to the bedroom, wondering if he should knock or just open the door. He opts for pushing it open slowly, poking his head into the room tentatively.

It’s empty.

Pushing the door open the rest of the way, Jongin’s steps inside, swallowing down a ball of worry as he scans the whole room. He finds what he’s looking for when he spots an overturned frame on the dresser. Kyungsoo’s tunnels into the ground have always set off a ripple of inevitable tremors, toppling a few things over every now and then. Sighing miserably, Jongin hangs his head, hoping Kyungsoo will come back home soon so Jongin can _fix_ this. He turns to leave but his eye catches a glint of metal on the nightstand and he freezes. His blood goes cold, feeling like someone just doused his insides with ice water.

Kyungsoo’s engagement ring.

Jongin can’t breathe, weakly stepping closer to hold it up with a shaky hand. He’s startled by the burning prickle in his eyes, but the weight on his chest doesn’t ease up.

 _This can’t be happening_. The distress culminates, seeping in between every joint of his body. Kyungsoo’s gone. _Please, please no_. Kyungsoo doesn’t want this anymore (doesn’t want him). Jongin fists a hand in the front of his shirt, feeling like his heart might just fall out of his chest with how hard it’s aching.

He needs to find him, before Kyungsoo gives up on him completely.

Shakily tucking the ring into his pocket, Jongin struggles to breathe in properly, lungs still constricting as he warps out of the room.

 

⇒ ⇒ ⇒           He puts a lease on this place halfway through their final year in university, after spending almost three months crammed in a small student house with several other people. It gets trickier by the day to find enough time to spend with each other, what with their free periods never coinciding and not sharing any classes together since they’re both in different courses. Having roommates is also a problem when they want a private moment together in the bedroom. Apartment hunting for places cheap enough to fall into his budget proves far more difficult than he’d ever anticipated, even after scrounging up the entirety of his savings, but somehow he manages.

Coaxing Kyungsoo into letting Jongin blindfold him is not an easy feat either, but one heated and very persuasive make-out session later, he begrudgingly allows Jongin to cover his eyes. Wrapping his arms around Kyungsoo's shoulders securely, he waits until Kyungsoo shuffles closer to press right up against him, winding his arms around his waist to fist in his shirt.

He teleports them right onto the doorstep of the new apartment, before untangling himself from Kyungsoo. His palms are sweaty and his hands shake so hard he fumbles with the knot of the blindfold, swallowing down the lump of nervousness creeping up his chest. The second it comes off, Kyungsoo blinks his eyes back into focus, staring at the door in front of him nonplussed.

It's when Jongin holds up the ring with two silver keys dangling from it with a shaky smile that Kyungsoo's expression morphs into a something between comprehension, shock and awe.

"You didn't," he breathes, wide eyed as he looks at the door again before turning back to Jongin. He opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say so much more but words fail him so Jongin quickly leaps in to fill up the gap.

“It’s not much, and it needs some work, but I thought we could figure it out?” he tries hopefully, suddenly wishing he’d put in more work on the place himself before showing it to Kyungsoo. Turning towards the door, he fumbles with the key ring, shivering a little when he feels a hand settle at the base of his spine. He can’t tell if Kyungsoo is trying to reassure him or hold his own self steady.

Finally fitting the right key into the keyhole, after deciding it would feel more meaningful to make their entry traditionally, he leads Kyungsoo up a narrow flight of stairs and this time makes quick work of the next door to the actual apartment.

It’s almost completely bare save for the ratty old couch sitting in the middle of the room but it’s enough space and it’s _their_ space.

Kyungsoo stares, lips slightly parted as he takes in the place with speculative eyes. Jongin follows his gaze anxiously, wondering if he might have made a mistake with this one. The shabbiness of the place suddenly glares out at him, suddenly noticing how dreary and uninvitingly _bare_ the room looks. Wringing his hands together, he swallows past the anxious lump clawing its way up his throat.

“I mean I’ve only paid the deposit so far so if you don’t—"

He doesn’t get to continue because Kyungsoo is suddenly right in front of him, kissing the words out of his mouth, claiming his lips between his own.

“I _love_ it,” he breathes, fisted hands tightening in the front of Jongin’s bunched up shirt. “I can’t believe you actually…” he laughs quietly then, curved lips brushing Jongin’s as Kyungsoo looks for the words he wants to say to him.

“This is amazing. Thank you, Jongin.” He presses his gratitude against Jongin’s mouth, branding it into his lips, the awe evident in his hooded eyes, through his long lashes.

He pushes Jongin back by the chest until the back of his knees hit the armrest of the couch and sends him toppling over onto the seat cushion with Kyungsoo straddling him easily. Jongin’s hands come up to settle comfortably on Kyungsoo’s slim hips, slipping his thumbs under the hem of his shirt to press into his warm skin.

“We should start making our mark on this place then, don’t you think?” Kyungsoo murmurs softly, bracing himself with a hand on Jongin’s chest as he leans down slowly to bring their lips close, just a hair’s breadth apart. “Really make this place our own.”

“What do you have in mind?” Jongin asks, sliding his hands up along Kyungsoo’s back, tracing the ridges at the bottom of his spine.

Shifting, Kyungsoo brings a knee up in between Jongin’s thighs, pressing it into his crotch as he hooks an arm loosely around the back of Jongin’s knee. He slides the other hand up along the cushion of the couch to bring it right by Jongin’s head, holding himself up.

“We could christen this couch, for starters,” he grins, pressing their foreheads together as his fingers creep down to tease at Jongin’s belt buckle, “and I could thank you properly.”

His hand stills for a moment as he moves to bring his lips right next to Jongin’s ear;

“Would you like that?”

Jongin shivers, feeling the arousal heavy in the pit of his stomach, already getting hard in the uncomfortably tight confines of his pants. Groaning, he nudges Kyungsoo’s face back towards his own with his nose to kiss him hard, open mouthed and wet. He curls an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, pleased when the hand Kyungsoo is using to hold himself up gives out and has him pressing snugly against Jongin’s chest. Laughing into his mouth, Kyungsoo works a hand between their bodies to press the heel of his palm into Jongin’s hardening cock, ripping a groan from his throat.

Bracketing Jongin’s thighs again, Kyungsoo kneels up and works on unbuckling Jongin’s belt, tugging the button of his pants open as Jongin struggles to pull his shirt off over his head. Once his pants and underwear are pushed down together, Jongin sits up to unbutton Kyungsoo’s own pants while he shrugs off his jacket and shirt. Finally, they kick off their pants completely and throw the rest of their garments haphazardly to the floor by the couch, eager to get back to each other’s mouths.

Kyungsoo rolls his hips achingly slowly, both of them groaning in tandem at the friction of their cocks rubbing together. Jongin’s lips find their way down his jaw, kissing down Kyungsoo’s neck and sucking marks into his skin just to hear him moan. He grazes his teeth lightly along the marks he’s left, feeling Kyungsoo shiver in his arms as a hand reaches up to fist in his hair. The fingers curling around his cock take Jongin by surprise and he accidentally nips a little too hard on the skin of Kyungsoo’s throat, kissing over the abused skin lightly in apology. Kyungsoo takes both their cocks in hand, forming the best ring he can with his fingers and pumps experimentally tearing low moans out of both their throats.

He finds Jongin’s lips again, licking into his mouth and Jongin eagerly swallows his moans, bringing a hand up to cup Kyungsoo’s cheek to angle their faces better. Kyungsoo’s fingers tighten and he quickens his pace, the pain of the dry friction almost drowned out by how _good_ it feels. It’s like his nerves are on fire, drowning in the heat of Kyungsoo’s mouth and he twists his tongue, kissing him harder as he moans against his lips.

He whines when Kyungsoo rips himself away, displeased when he lets go of his cock. He’s so hard it _aches_. Kyungsoo only laughs at the frown on his face, leaning back down to press a swift kiss right between his furrowed eyebrows.

“Patience,” he breathes, before pulling away.

Leaning over to the side, Kyungsoo rifles through the messy pile of clothes strewn on the floor by the couch and Jongin keeps him steady with his hands on Kyungsoo’s hips. His skin is warm and soft beneath his fingers and it takes everything he has to lay still patiently.

Kyungsoo finally finds what he’s looking for, straightening back up with the jacket he’d thrown off earlier in hand. He searches the pockets quickly, looking satisfied when his fingers find purchase and he pulls out a packet of lube and a couple of condoms.

“Prepared, aren’t you?” Jongin laughs, squeezing Kyungsoo’s sides teasingly as he throws the jacket aside. “Do you always carry those around with you?”

“You tell me,” Kyungsoo grins, leaning down close to brush their lips together. “I was wearing your jacket.”

Flushing hard, Jongin squirms underneath him and Kyungsoo grins as he presses a quick kiss to his lips.

Popping the lid, he slathers his fingers with a generous amount of lube and pushes two inside himself, scissoring himself. His lips part, eyelashes fluttering as he works himself open and Jongin feels flushed, somewhat breathless and so fucking _hard_.

Finally, Kyungsoo slips his fingers out, taking hold of Jongin’s cock again to roll on a condom and slick it up. The light touches are killing him, already sensitive with need and Jongin groans, hardly able to wait.

Kyungsoo lifts himself up, keeping his balance with a hand on Jongin’s chest as Jongin’s hands come up to hold his waist, keeping him steady. Guiding Jongin’s cock towards his hold, Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and sinks down slowly, ripping long drawn groans from the both of them.

He so tight and hot, so _good_ , but Jongin doesn’t dare move until Kyungsoo has adjusted properly. Keeping a hand braced on Jongin’s chest, Kyungsoo lifts himself up until there’s only the crown of his cock inside him and slams down hard, clenching tightly around him and it feels so dizzyingly good. There’s a beautiful flush colouring Kyungsoo’s cheeks, spreading all the way down to his heaving chest as he pushes himself up again, setting up a pace. The air is hot and thick with their moans, Kyungsoo bouncing in his lap with cut off whimpers as Jongin digs his heels into the couch cushions and thrusts up to meet his grinds with a groan.

Kyungsoo falls forward with a choked moan, holding himself up with his hands on either side of Jongin’s head. Their lips brush together and Jongin arches his neck to claim them but Kyungsoo pushes himself away with a grin, panting as he keeps fucking himself on Jongin’s cock. He licks his lips, eyes at half-mast as he bores them into Jongin’s heatedly. Leaning back, he curls his fingers around Jongin’s ankles and bares his neck, clearly an invitation when he moans low in his throat.

Jongin pushes himself to sit up, chuckling when Kyungsoo nearly loses his balance at the movement and circles his arms around his waist to press their chests up close together. He licks a stripe up the column of Kyungsoo’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to the hollow of his throat before working his way back up to lick into Kyungsoo’s mouth.

Kyungsoo’s arms wind around Jongin’s neck and he breaks off to suck on his jawline, burying his moans in the skin of his cheek as Jongin rocks his hips up harder. Jongin can feels him trailing his fingertips across the planes of his back, sending little prickles of electricity zinging through his veins under his touch. The burning swirl of arousal pools in his stomach, and he pistons his hips up harder, keening as he throws his head back and _god_ he’s so close, it feels like his entire body is on fire. Kyungsoo rolls his hips down, fucking himself harder on Jongin’s cock, his voice cracking when he cries out Jongin’s name over and over again. He comes like that, fingers buried in Jongin’s hair, his body rigid and pulled taut as Jongin’s hips pound into him to his own release.

They slump down against the couch, not bothering about the mess sticking between their stomachs. Kyungsoo seems content to lie on his chest, panting and looking completely fucked out and absolutely beautiful. Jongin wraps an arm around him securely, already feeling his eyelids getting heavy, struggling to keep them open.

“Now that’s a housewarming,” he murmurs sleepily, hearing Kyungsoo chuckle and kiss his chest in response just before he dozes off.         ⇐⇐⇐

 

This is the first place he'd thought to check, hoping against hope that Kyungsoo might have come back here to have some quiet time away from him. It hurts to think about, that he has to come up with all the places Kyungsoo might go to, to get away from him, but he swallows it down; this is all his fault after all.

When they found a bigger place after they graduated from university, Kyungsoo had been the one to insist that they keep it this apartment; ' _just in case_ ' he'd insisted, though Jongin already knew it was purely for sentimental value. He hadn't opposed him them, not quite ready to part with the first piece of space they'd ever had just for themselves either.

But the building is empty, with no sign of being touched in a long time. Kyungsoo isn't here.

 

 

There an icy bite to the wind when he comes out of the next warp, standing on the bridge overlooking the frozen lake. Shivering, Jongin wraps his thin jacket tighter around himself, folding his arms to tuck his hands away for warmth.

His heart falls at the large mass of people on the ice and sitting around it on the drier banks out of the way. His eyes slip from one face to another in a futile attempt to single Kyungsoo out from the thick throng of people. Ice skating is popular this time of the year and it’s next to impossible to find anyone in the crowd.

He had come here once with Kyungsoo, getting the idea out of the blue.

 

⇒ ⇒ ⇒           He’s having a bad day.

Jongin can see it in the lines almost permanently etched into his face, the dark pull of his furrowed eyebrows and tight line of his lips. He hasn’t said a word to Jongin since he got home from class, tossing his bag aside and holing himself up in his room, emerging only to get food.

It’s not anger though. The downturned curve of his mouth, and the slight slump in his shoulders; it’s subtle, anyone could have missed it, but then Jongin has always looked at Kyungsoo like there’s nothing else in the world he could possibly turn his eyes to. He sees the faint shadows circling under his eyes and catches the ghost of a sigh that escapes Kyungsoo’s lips every now and then, the way he hangs his head when he thinks he’s alone, clearly berating himself internally.

Jongin recalls him mentioning an important test set earlier that morning. He doesn’t ask how it went; he doesn’t need to. Frowning, Jongin watches as Kyungsoo slumps down on one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table, setting a bowl of cereal in front of him and poking at the cornflakes with his spoon without taking a bite. He’s got an elbow up on the table, mashing his cheek into his closed fist as he stares at his food; he’s subdued out of his appetite and Jongin cocks his head, getting a sudden idea.

It takes a while and a lot of coaxing but he manages to get a disgruntled Kyungsoo bundled up in a thick jacket with a woolly scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. Clasping his hands tightly around Kyungsoo’s arms before he can protest and change his mind, Jongin warps them out of the house and onto the hard stone of a bridge.

Kyungsoo takes one look at where they are and glares at Jongin, gritting his teeth grumpily.

“You know I suck at this stuff,” he mutters crossly, hunching his shoulders to block out the cold nip of the wind from his neck.

“You’ll be fine, it’ll be fun, hyung,” Jongin insists, curling his fingers around Kyungsoo’s wrist and pulling him behind him as he leads them down from the bridge onto the grassy bank. There’s already a crowd of people littering the surface of the frozen river, gliding across the thick ice on their skates. Jongin beelines for the renting stall to get two pairs of skates, still dragging a very reluctant Kyungsoo behind him; he hasn’t shrugged his hand off yet, which Jongin takes as a good sign. He just wants Kyungsoo to feel the same way he always feels when he comes out here every once in a while just to breathe; free, like the biting cold air and the smooth cut of the ice under his blades are slicing apart every knot of unease and distress polluting his body and thoughts. As a warper, Jongin relishes the solidity under his feet but he thinks maybe as an earth mover, Kyungsoo might revel in the smooth texture and finesse of the frozen river surface that the coarse earth doesn’t quite capture.

Kyungsoo is unsurprisingly wobbly on the ice, but Jongin cheers and yells out encouragements all the same, circling around him close enough to catch him if he falls.

Grunting, Kyungsoo keeps his arms outstretched as he stumbles and flails his way around at a snail’s pace, brows furrowed as he keeps his eyes on his feet and concentrates on keeping his balance. He gradually sets up a pace, skating in a straight path along the perimeter of the river, with Jongin gliding smoothly beside him just an arm’s length away, encouraging him along. Smiling, Jongin watches Kyungsoo experiment with circles, trying to curve around more and spin slowly on the ice. There’s a hint of something creeping into his eyes, a mixture between frustrated determination and eagerness, the slightest twitch of a smile playing on his lips. Jongin veers away, putting more distance between them to give Kyungsoo more space.

He just barely spots the kid shooting down in Kyungsoo’s direction, leaving him no time to call out and warn him. Kyungsoo looks up a split second before the collision happens and throws all his weight to the right, jumping out of the way. Throwing his hands out in front of him, Kyungsoo prepares for the inevitable fall but one of his skates skids on the ice and somehow catches the right angle, making him curve around prettily in a semi spin on one leg before slowing to a stop.

They gawk at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, Kyungsoo nearly doubled over breathlessly as Jongin skates over next to him, shaking with mirth.

“Did you see that?” Kyungsoo laughs, his eyes curved into crescents. Jongin nods eagerly, giggles still tumbling from his lips. There’s a rush of warmth in his chest, swelling happily because the deep lines creasing Kyungsoo’s forehead have finally smoothed over and any traces of distress have ebbed away, even if it’s just for a while. His cheeks are flushed, still grinning so hard it looks like it’ll start to ache soon, and Jongin simply grins back.     ⇐⇐⇐

 

“Minseok hyung!” he calls urgently, rushing down to the renting stall, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. He’s got help this year, Jongin notes, watching as Yixing slides a finger lightly across the blade of a skate to restore its sharpness.

Jongin hopes against hope that Kyungsoo is around here somewhere, using the ice to clear his mind just like last time.

He stumbles again, a little woozy from his hurried warping, but a strong hand curls around his arm to hold him up.

“Easy, kid,” Luhan grins at him, only letting go when he’s sure Jongin’s legs will keep him up this time.

“Thanks, hyung,” he mumbles embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s good to see you again.”

Minseok shows up after handing a pair of skates off to a customer, rounding the counter to pull Jongin into a hug.

“You here for my ice again?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the frozen solid lake before them.

Ducking his head apologetically, Jongin shifts awkwardly, throwing anxious glances at the crowd of people before turning back to his friends.

“I was just wondering if you guys have seen Kyungsoo around here today?” he asks, flushing and feeling his chest clench with shame at their confused but concerned looks.

Minseok turns to Yixing in askance, but he shakes his head cluelessly, shrugging his shoulders. Turning back towards the skating rink Minseok flicks his wrist, waiting as a small hunk of ice breaks from the perimeter and falls into his waiting palm. He cups the block with both hands, pressing them flat together until there’s nothing but droplets of water on his skin.

“I’m sorry Jongin, the ice holds no memory of him from today,” Minseok says apologetically, wiping his hand down on his pants. “I haven’t seen him come by the stall either.”

Jongin’s shoulders slump dejectedly, throwing another look at the moving body of people on the ice, as though Kyungsoo will suddenly show up among them with his usual smile on his face.

“I could try Looking for him,” Luhan offers, snatching Jongin’s attention back. “I’ll probably have to bypass the wall he set up after last time first.” He snickers, and Jongin recalls the prank Luhan had played on Kyungsoo, planting explicit images in his mind while he was trying to hold a conversation with some friends. Kyungsoo had learned to fortify his mind after that, stoutly refusing to speak to Luhan for a week.

Jongin nods gratefully, holding his breath as Luhan closes his eyes, searching for Kyungsoo’s mind. His brow furrows, jaw clenching tightly. Minseok steps forward to move to his side, ready to hold him steady if he sways. The deep frown on his face is not encouraging at all, and Jongin’s heart falls when Luhan cracks his eyes open without a smile to follow.

“Well he’s definitely learnt to block me out well,” he pants, wiping away a few beads of sweat that gathered on his forehead. Yixing immediately slides a hand up to cup his cheek, waiting a few seconds until Luhan’s shoulders relax and the frown slips away from his face in relief. He throws Yixing a thankful glance before he turns back to Jongin.

“He’s out of range though, he’s most likely in his underground tunnels. I can’t reach him down there. I’m sorry Jongin.”

Brushing aside his needless apology, Jongin shakes his head and pulls Luhan into a grateful hug, followed by Yixing.

“I’m sorry for the trouble,” he bows low until Minseok urges him to straighten up with an arm around his neck, the weight of it soothing. “Thanks, hyung.”

He pulls away with a wave of goodbye and warps out.

 

 

He lands on soft earth this time, his shoes sinking a bit in the damp soil beneath his shoes. The park is huge, spanning out so far he can’t even see where it ends. Sighing despondently, Jongin takes in the large mass of people littering the grassy plain huddled close for warmth as they wait for the year end fireworks to start, his heart sinking at how impossible it’s going to be to find Kyungsoo through the crowd. If he’s even here at all.

 

⇒ ⇒ ⇒          It’s sunny enough that they came out to walk the puppies, letting them run freely through the grass as Jongin and Kyungsoo splay out on the grass with their packed picnic basket of lunch. They sit side by side, leaning back on their arms as they soak in the sun, their shoulders occasionally bumping together.

The puppies adore Kyungsoo of course, sprinting back after rocketing around the park and bowling right into him, nuzzling whichever part of him they can reach. All three poodles are vying for his hand to scratch their heads, drawing out his bright smile and husky laugh as he tries to keep up with all of them. Jongin is entranced, finding himself unable to look away.

Kyungsoo pulls a container of fruit out of the basket, nibbling at a strawberry and chuckling when the puppies fall over themselves trying to get to it too.

He’s not the first of Jongin’s friends to play with his puppies, but he’s the first who’s ever made this moment seem so significant. It feels intimate, the way he reaches over to push a strawberry into his mouth, patting his thigh absently as he munches on his own. The longing in every fiber of his body aches so badly, it makes it hard to swallow. This, Jongin thinks to himself, watching Kyungsoo nuzzling his face into the puppies’ furry heads, this in all its simplicity and familiarity is everything that he wants with Kyungsoo. His heart swells up, squeezing with emotion and _wistfulness_ because he wants to stay in this moment of ease with Kyungsoo for as long as he can.

Maybe it’s just the way the sun hits his face when he turns to smile at him, or the coral tint staining his lips from the strawberry juice but Jongin’s chest is full, overwhelmed and before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in and presses his lips to Kyungsoo’s.

They’re even softer than he’d ever dared to imagine, warm and plush against his own, and Jongin is sure he’s stopped breathing. He pulls back, cracking his eyes open again and the first thing he registers is Kyungsoo flinching back, hissing through his teeth. Jongin doesn’t think, he can barely process anything at all; his heart slams against his ribs and he feels the grass disappear beneath him.           ⇐⇐⇐

 

He’s rounded the entire park at least twice, warping from one patch of grass to another to get a good look at the people splayed out on the ground. Wheezing, Jongin clutches at his side, trying to knead the painful stitch out with his fingers. He throws one last desperate look around again before warping out.

 

 

The second he materializes, Jongin has to swerve out of the way quickly before the waiter collides with him and drops his tray of orders. The restaurant is horribly over-decorated, streamers and balloons obnoxiously crammed into every nook and cranny of the place. Jongin manages a small smile as he looks around at the familiar setting. Chanyeol hasn’t changed at all.

 

⇒ ⇒ ⇒           He materializes on the chair so hard it nearly knocks the breath out of him.

“What the—”

He takes in his surroundings, gasping in horror that he’d accidentally warped away from the park right into this restaurant. It takes a few seconds but the memory of kissing Kyungsoo slams into him and he panics even harder, struggling to get to his feet when he knees feel all wobbly.

“I knew you’d finally see the light and pick my burgers over Baekhyun’s chicken!”

Jongin turns to find Chanyeol grinning at him from behind the counter, drying up a glass with worn out dishcloth. Groaning, Jongin trudges over to sit on one of the high stools across from Chanyeol and burying his face in his arms on the counter.

“Hyung, I screwed up,” he whines miserably, thinking about the way Kyungsoo flinched back from him so quickly.

“Let me guess. Kyungsoo?”

Chanyeol seems to read the look in his eyes, nodding understandingly as he sets the spotless glass down and rounds the counter to take a seat beside him. Slumping against his shoulder, Jongin recounts everything that happened right before he got here.

Listening attentively, Chanyeol pats his hair gently, about to opens his mouth to say something but the jingle of the bells at the entrance make him pause.

“Well,” Jongin hears him say, “speak of the devil.”

Bolting upright in his seat, Jongin follows his line of sight towards the entrance and freezes when he spots Kyungsoo standing there. He looks absolutely _livid_.

"What the hell was that?" he hisses, storming over to where Jongin is sitting.  
  
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Chanyeol chirps, clapping a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, ignoring the pleading eyes he’s throwing him and disappears into the kitchen.

“You left me with your _kids_ ,” Kyungsoo goes on as though Chanyeol wasn’t even there, “I can’t walk three dogs home by myself across those busy streets and you _know_ they hate my underground tunnels!”

“Are they alright?” Jongin frets immediately, brows creasing, “they must be exhausted—”

“That’s not the point!” Kyungsoo cuts him off, nostrils flaring. Jongin falls silent, staring at his hands on his lap, unsure of where to go from here.

"How long?" he hears Kyungsoo ask, his voice far more hushed now.

"Hyung—"

"Jongin," Kyungsoo cuts in again, looking inexplicably furious, " _How long_?"

He can still feel the phantom warmth of Kyungsoo’s lips on his own.

"Um," he fumbles, twisting the hem of his shirt around his finger so tightly that his nail begins to poke through, "since I got into University? So always, I guess," he trails off, baffled by the way Kyungsoo's eyebrows continue to furrow.

“So even when…” Kyungsoo pauses, pressing his lips together as he stares at Jongin.

"Even when I started seeing Minah?” he drags a hand along his face, tugging roughly at the strands of his hair. “ _God_ , Jongin, I talked to you about her all the time."

Jongin nods, remembering every heartbreaking moment he’d endured through his second year, listening to Kyungsoo talk about his new girlfriend while he picked up the pieces of his own heart.

"You just—you never stopped—even then?" Kyungsoo continues, staring at Jongin with a torn expression.

"Yeah," Jongin says again, lowering his eyes to where his fingers are playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

"And you just _let_ me—why didn't you _say_ anything?"

Kyungsoo's question has Jongin whipping his head up, the frustration in his tone and burning in his eyes making him falter a little. He shakes himself quickly though, feeling a wave of his own frustration wash over him.

"Why _would_ I?" he throws back, because none of this makes sense. He’s tired, his heart feels bruised and worn thin. All he wants is to be anywhere but here so he can lie down and burn in his shame and misery, to try and figure out how to even fix this. "You’re my best friend, what’s the point in loading all my crap about how I felt on you. You were dating Minah!"

"Because I thought I never had a chance with you!" Kyungsoo exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air.

Stunned, Jongin's breath hitches, his lips parting in shock and he’s unable to make a sound as he gapes at Kyungsoo with wide eyes. That can’t be right. His heart is in his throat, pounding painfully enough to make him feel lightheaded.

"I mean," Kyungsoo shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to explain it properly. "I liked Minah, she was sweet and funny and dating her was lovely. I’m not denying that. But I only considered going out with her at all because I thought you’d never… I thought I'd never have a shot with you."

"Then what made you break up with her?" Jongin whispers, feeling rooted to the spot. He wonders if Kyungsoo can hear his heart from where he's standing.

"Guess I never stopped hoping," Kyungsoo's lowers his eyes and Jongin takes a moment to admire, for the thousandth time, the way his dark lashes brush against his cheekbones.

The moment is short lived when Kyungsoo snaps his eyes open to close the distance and ram his fist right into Jongin’s gut.

“And it turns out I was right to do so,” he growls crossly as Jongin doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Well you never said anything either!” he wheezes in a weak attempt to fight back. “And you cursed when I kissed you! You backed away like I was some disease!”

“That’s because Jjangah _bit_ my finger,” Kyungsoo retorts, “and you warped out and left me alone before I could even say anything.”

Jongin shrinks under the force of his glare, biting on his lower lips when Kyungsoo turns his face away, folding his arms tightly against his chest.

“S-so,” Jongin tries uncertainly, “you like _me_?”

“Yes.”

Brusque.

“But… you’re mad.”

“Very.”

At a loss for words, he opens and closes his mouth in an attempt to find the right thing to say to that.

“Just—” Kyungsoo heaves out a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut with a frown. “Just take us back to the house, Jongin.”

Giving a short nod, Jongin complies and steps closer, his hand hovering over Kyungsoo’s shoulder, wondering if maybe he should take a chance and hold his hand. Kyungsoo is looking anywhere but at him though, forehead still creased, and he settles for curling his fingers firmly around Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

He warps them both out of Chanyeol’s restaurant, ignoring the curious glances from the handful of customers and lands them right outside Kyungsoo’s shared room with Junmyeon, feeling confused and a little anxious. Kyungsoo wordlessly pushes the door open and walks in, leaving Jongin to trail in after him, shutting the door uncertainly.

He’s barely even turned around when before he finds himself with his back pushed up against the closed door and Kyungsoo is crowding into his space. There’s no time to speak, no time to _think_ before Kyungsoo’s mouth is covering his own, bringing a hand up to palm his cheek. He kisses gently, taking Jongin’s lower lip between his own before kissing his top one, pressing in closely against Jongin’s chest. He brings his other hand up to Jongin’s face, pressing his thumb into his cheekbone and angles his head to kiss him harder. Jongin feels the tip of his nose pressing into his cheek as Kyungsoo coaxes his lips open with his tongue, licking into his mouth with a breathy hum low in his throat. He tastes of strawberry, Jongin registers vaguely, shuddering when Kyungsoo curls his tongue and licks along the roof of his mouth. Kyungsoo’s mouth is dizzyingly hot, his soft lips slotting perfectly with Jongin’s before nibbling lightly on his lower lip. He’s too lightheaded to figure out what to do with his hands, feeling like his knees might buckle at any moment.

He lets out a breathless whine when Kyungsoo pulls back all too quickly, too dazed to feel embarrassed. Kyungsoo’s still pressed against his chest when he looks up at him, lips shiny and swollen.

“If you’d just said something, we could have saved ourselves a lot of—”

Jongin doesn’t let him finish, surging forward to claim his lips again, remembering his hands this time as he curls one around the back of Kyungsoo’s neck to pull him closer. He brushes their noses together, kissing him slowly as he brings his hand up to press the tips of his fingers into Kyungsoo’s cheek softly. He can feel the twist of Kyungsoo’s lips curving into a smile against his own, a spike of warmth in his chest when he feels arms curving around his waist to settle on the dip of his back.           ⇐⇐⇐

 

“Jongin?”

Chanyeol emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands down on the apron around his waist.

“Where’s Kyungsoo?”

His heart falls to his feet. “He’s not here?”

Chanyeol shakes his head, apologetic. Jongin nods, promising to come back for an actual meal sometime next week before he warps out.

 

 

He stumbles when he lands in the dimly lit bar, his lungs tight and stomach churning at the poor materialization of his sloppy warp. Wheezing, he doubles over, holding himself up with his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath from the efforts of travelling, too frazzled and distracted to do it properly. The sound of a guitar strumming reaches his ears once the blood stops pounding in his head.

“Jongin?”

Still bent over as he pants, Jongin twists his head towards the person calling his name, spotting Sehun throwing him an odd look from behind the bar counter. He tries to speak but only manages a rasp though his chapped lips, face scrunching in discomfort. Sehun cocks his head, looking almost bored as he quirks a lazy finger in the air towards him.

Jongin barely has time to blink before a gust of wind forces its way through his mouth and nose, inflating his lungs as he gulps in the much needed air. Brushing his hair out of his face, Jongin dodges past the batch of new people coming in through the door to get to the bar.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully.

“No problem. You looked a little winded,” Sehun snickers, aiming his pointer fingers at the row of drinks set on the counter to calculatedly blow air into them, fizzing them up nicely before sending them off.

Jongin ignores him in favour of scanning the bar, eyes leaping from head to head in the crowd desperately looking for that familiar sleekness to Kyungsoo’s hair.

“Looking for someone?” Sehun asks lightly, as he serves a martini, flying it smoothly right into the waiting hand of an elegantly dressed woman at the far end of the bar.

“Yeah, I...” He trails off when a familiar song begins to play, and turns his head to watch the live band strum out the first verse of the song.

 

⇒ ⇒ ⇒           They come down here on the weekends when they’re too tired to work but too wired up to stay cooped up at home. One added perk of befriending Sehun is the drink benefits they get to call when he’s on shift. The music is great here, small name bands coming in every week to give a live performance to the steady influx of regulars in the bar. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere for a tranquil Friday night, upbeat enough to get them tapping their feet and swaying with their drinks in hand.

Most of the time though, Jongin isn’t even looking towards the stage; he barely glances at the musicians and the vocalist singing into the microphone. Most of the time he’s got his eyes subtly fixed on Kyungsoo, watching as he sways his body to the music, occasionally mouthing the words from a song he recognizes, a faint smile playing on his lips when the guitarists hit a sweet note. He watches him wistfully stare at the stage, drawn back by bouts of stage fright until one day Kyungsoo pulls him down to kiss him hard and takes a deep breath, bracing himself before marching right up onto that stage himself.

And when he comes down he ravishes Jongin’s mouth again, kissing him breathless, riding off the exhilaration of the performance. He says it feels like he’s in another world up there, and he doesn’t have to think about anything but his voice matching the music of the guitar.           ⇐⇐⇐

 

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin says distractedly, desperately searching the growing throng of people, “He—we had a—have you seen him?”

The band starts on their next song, a more upbeat number this time and he can’t hear himself over the music. He knows Sehun has heard him though, looking up at him beseechingly in hopes that he’ll say yes. No such luck though. Sehun shakes his head, his expression drawn with concern. Jongin’s miserable sigh is lost in the loud bass of the amplifiers and he waves his thanks at Sehun before warping out of there.

He tries one bar after another, bursting in through the doors and desperately squeezing through the hordes of people ready to celebrate New Year’s Eve with enough alcohol to knock them out cold. He looks everywhere, scanning every person’s face he can see, feeling despair clawing at his insides like a thorn. He goes through every bar he knows of in the area until he’s stumbling and wheezing after every warp, getting clumsier by the minute. Every movement sends sparks of pain in his joints and he’s aching all over, dizzy as he half collapses against a wall to steady himself until his head stops spinning. His phone battery died, he notes, not that it really matters anyway since Kyungsoo isn’t answering his.

He lands himself halfway down a staircase at one point, painfully jostling his back when he teeters off balance and slips off the edge down a couple of steps. He’s losing his accuracy, materializing further and further off his intended mark. Praying he doesn’t warp himself in the middle of oncoming traffic, Jongin takes a deep breath and warps out again.

 

 

He materializes in fresher air, stumbling a little when the earth wobbles beneath his feet. The wind is bitingly cold now that he’s by the sea, and he tugs his thin cardigan closer around his body. He can only see the beach dimly through the moonlight and its reflection on the ripples and waves of the sea.

Kyungsoo had said it's the best place to clear your thoughts with the sound of the waves, to look up at the stars and feel like you're sailing through them.

 

⇒⇒⇒           The beach is huge. They forego the lantern they’d brought with them, spreading out their towels on the sand and enjoying the stark shine of the full moon instead. They’re snuggled under a blanket, listening to the rippling waves lapping gently at the shore.

"Hey don’t doze off on me, I’m not done with you yet," Kyungsoo prods him, the grin evident in his voice. Jongin hums, raising his arms up to pillow his head.

"Your fault," he murmurs, "the waves are making me sleepy."

"We'll see about that."

He doesn't get a chance to figure out what he means before there's a hand pressing down on his crotch and his body responds faster than his brain can catch up.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Wait—here?” Jongin squeaks hoarsely, darting his head from side to side, squinting into the darkness in an attempt to spot anyone approaching.

Kyungsoo draws in closer until their lips are just brushing together, breaths mingling as he huffs out a quiet laugh. Pressing a palm into the sand beside them, he closes his eyes the way he always does to concentrate on the vibrations of the earth, stilling for just a moment before his eyes flutter open again with a smile.

“There’s no one around for miles,” he whispers against Jongin’s parted lips, brushing them together teasingly before pulling away just as Jongin tries to kiss him.

Shifting under the blanket, Kyungsoo pushes himself over to straddle Jongin’s hips, dragging his blunt nails up Jongin’s arm to push his hands into the sand, tangling their fingers together and holding them down above his head as he kisses him.

Dipping lower, Kyungsoo’s head disappears under the blanket to push Jongin’s sweater up, his every touch amplified by anticipation and arousal. He feels the tips of Kyungsoo’s cold fingertips skating across his chest, pressing into his stomach and he shivers at the chill. He’s taken by surprise when Kyungsoo teases his nipple, taking the bud into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, and Jongin arches against him, sighing at the feel of Kyungsoo’s lips mouthing down his sternum. He sucks marks into his skin, dipping his tongue into his navel and _god_ Jongin’s already half hard.

Licking his way down, Kyungsoo fumbles with Jongin’s belt buckle, pulling it open quickly and tugging his pants and underwear down his thighs, to hold Jongin’s cock in his hands and flatten his tongue against the underside of his length. Taking him into his mouth, Kungsoo sucks lightly on the head before taking him all the way in, immediately deep-throating and swallowing around him. Jongin cries out, squeezing his eyes shut as he shudders, fumbling to bring his hands down to bury his fingers in Kyungsoo’s hair. The wet heat of his mouth is _incredible_ , and Jongin’s whimpering for more, his breath stuttering when Kyungsoo swallows around him again. Jongin bucks his hips up instinctively, his body begging for more but Kyungsoo has a steely grip on his hips, holding him firmly against the ground and sucking harder in turn. He’s so hard it aches, and his fingers tighten around Kyungsoo’s hair, dragging his blunt nails lightly against his scalp.

It’s maddening not being able to see him through the darkness under the blanket. He shoves it off, braving the cold chill blowing in from the sea in favour of watching Kyungsoo’s head bobbing up and down the length of his cock. The sounds he’s making around him are positively obscene; wet and slurping as he swirls his tongue around the crown of his cock again. Whimpering, Jongin lets his head fall back against the sand, trapping his lip in between his teeth as he nears the edge. He’s so close, he can feel it burning in the pit of his stomach. Kyungsoo hums around him, the vibrations shooting him closer to release but then the heat is gone as Kyungsoo pulls off with a lewd pop.

Groaning, Jongin tugs him up to kiss him with a whine, sucking on his lips hungrily and tasting the slightest hint of himself on Kyungsoo’s tongue. When he eventually pulls away, Kyungsoo leans over to the side, reaching for the lube and Jongin works on kicking his pants off completely, his body thrumming and feeling too flushed to bother about the cold air.

His legs fall open to accommodate Kyungsoo when he settles between Jongin’s thighs, already popping the cap on the bottle of lube to slick his fingers up. Leaning down, he holds himself up with an elbow right next to Jongin’s head and kisses his lips just as he pushes the first finger in. Jongin squeezes his eyes shut at the intrusion but he kisses Kyungsoo back insistently, needing more. Pushing another two fingers in slowly, Kyungsoo scissors him open, kissing all over Jongin’s face and licking into his open mouth to distract him. Jongin gasps into his mouth, moaning needily as he rocks his hips down, fucking himself harder on Kyungsoo’s fingers.

A choked whine slips from his lips when Kyungsoo slides his fingers out, his hole clenching over nothing. He makes quick work of rolling a condom down his length, slicking it up before hooking an arm around the bend of Jongin’s knee to lift it up and pushes in.

Jongin’s mouth falls open and moans at the fullness, hissing at the burn of the stretch. Kyungsoo shifts inside him, sending a zing of arousal shooting up his nerves as he reaches up, fingers digging into the skin of Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He starts off with a few shallow thrusts, his pace driving Jongin insane even as he leans down and makes a shuddering mess out of him when he kisses a spot below his ear and sucks on his lobe. Moaning low in his throat, Jongin crosses his legs behind Kyungsoo’s back, bracketing his slim waist snugly with his thighs to pull him in harder and urge him to move faster.

Grinning, Kyungsoo picks up the pace, even as he sucks on a spot just below his jaw and Jongin hisses when he feels him grazing his teeth over the mark lightly. He hooks his arms around Kyungsoo’s neck, keening loudly as Kyungsoo rocks into him harder, rolling his hips at a steady pace. He mouths desperately at Kyungsoo’s pale shoulder, feeling flushed and burning to be closer as he muffles his whines for more into his skin.

He cries out when Kyungsoo hits the right spot, pushing his head back harder into the sand as his spine arches and he cants his hips off the ground. Kyungsoo pulls back, dragging his fingers along Jongin’s stomach to settle on his hips, leaving trails of fire under his fingertips. His hair is damp with sweat, falling into his eyes and Jongin reaches up to brush it aside, panting and whimpering as Kyungsoo hits the spot again and again but his eyes never waver.

Grinning, Kyungsoo leans down again to press a tender kiss to his cheek before thrusting into him harder, low moans tumbling from his lips. Jongin lets his arms fall outstretched onto the sand beside him, digging his fingers in as he cries out Kyungsoo’s name through stuttered breaths. He can feel himself falling apart, his release burning so close, _so_ close, gasping at every wave of pleasure ricocheting through his veins. Kyungsoo leans down to swallow his moans, gyrating his hips and pounding into him so hard he’s seeing stars, scrabbling for purchase around his back as he meets his thrusts.

Kyungsoo’s hips begin to stutter, panting and moaning harshly, his face scrunched in pleasure, looking as close as Jongin is. He takes Jongin’s cock into his hand again, pumping to match his thrusts and Jongin screams out his name brokenly, moaning unrestrained at the overwhelming sensation. Arching his back, he goes rigid, jaw going slack as he shoots his load between their stomachs, and Kyungsoo comes moments later, rolling his hips the last couple of times to milk it out.

He slumps on Jongin’s chest bonelessly, pulling off the condom and tossing it aside.

“Happy birthday, Jonginnie,” he breathes, pressing their lips together, twice, thrice, before kissing his cheek and shifting to nestle into his side comfortably. He tugs the blanket back over them, the sheen of sweat sticking to their bodies already starting to go cold in the night chill.

Mumbling incoherently, Jongin turns sleepily and mashes his cheek into the side of Kyungsoo’s head with a happy sigh. “Best birthday present ever,” he mumbles hazily, snuggling into Kyungsoo’s warmth.           ⇐⇐⇐

 

The sun has set and he can barely see anything across the vast stretch of sand. He goes hoarse calling out Kyungsoo’s name, warping in every direction meter by meter hoping to stumble into him wherever he is on the beach. All he gets is the whistle of the wind in response and an accumulation of sand in his shoes weighing him down as he staggers along the shoreline. His muscles are screaming with the strain but he pushes on, ignoring the burn.

Jongin falls to his knees after what seems like hours, realizing he’s already rounded the entire beach a couple of times when he recognizes the sparse patch of grass on the sand that he’s already walked across before. Kyungsoo isn’t here.

 

 

The solid ground jolts him off balance when he materializes in a street this time. He doesn’t even remember picking a destination when he warped off the bay, his body seeming to move on instinct. Taking in his surroundings, Jongin recognizes the stalls lining the street, bright colours and the smell of food consuming his senses. The atmosphere is familiar, a fairly recent memory from when Kyungsoo had brought him to a street festival a couple of months before.

 

⇒⇒⇒           It was Kyungsoo’s idea to come down here but Jongin seems to be the more excited of the two, dragging Kyungsoo to every stall as he follows the different scents of food wafting in the air. He’s intent on trying everything he can fit in his stomach and Kyungsoo indulges him, letting him feed him then feeding him right back, laughing easily because Jongin always makes a mess.

The find a stone bench tucked away to the side of the street to settle down on, enjoying the beautiful decorations and the twinkling fairy lights hanging above their heads.

Jongin is about to take another bite from his kebab when he feels Kyungsoo looking at him. There’s an indecipherable look in his eyes, seeming almost dazed into silence by something, seeming to forget about the steaming kebab in his own hand. Confused, Jongin opens his mouth to ask but a sudden explosion startles him into nearly losing his grip on his food. Looking up, he watched the myriad of colours paint across the starry sky as the sequence of firework explosions carry on, coupled with the crowd’s delighted cheers.

“—me?”

Snapping his head down, Jongin focuses on Kyungsoo again, frowning at having missed his words through the noise. Kyungsoo looks somewhat stricken, wide-eyed as he catches his bottom lip between his teeth absently. Jongin notes the way his fingers clench tighter around the kebab stick.

“What did you say?” Jongin asks him loudly, scrunching his face as he leans closer in an attempt to hear him through the din of the fireworks.

When the noise stops for a moment, Kyungsoo seems to steel himself, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

“I—I said…” he falters, frowning at himself crossly when the words die on his tongue. “I—”

The next set of fireworks starts off again, whistling and exploding loudly right above them again, and the rowdy crowd is set off again. Huffing, Kyungsoo reaches over to fist his hand in Jongin’s shirt and pulls him closer to kiss him. His lips and the heat of his mouth are as intoxicating as ever and Jongin kisses back with fervor, mouth falling open for Kyungsoo to flick his tongue inside.

“Will you marry me?” Kyungsoo breathes against his lips when he pulls back, and the fireworks have stopped, the noise has stopped, maybe Jongin’s heart has stopped for a moment too, frozen as he blinks at Kyungsoo, lost for words.

“I know it’s way too early, we should definitely wait a couple more years but I—it’s a promise, I just—”

“Yes!”

He cuts Kyungsoo off, beaming so hard he’s nearly tearing up. Kyungsoo blinks before his face splits into a smile and he pulls Jongin in by the shirt to claim his lips again.

“You sure you wanna deal with me for so long?” Jongin grins when he pulls back, face so flushed it feels like it’s on fire.

Kyungsoo laughs brightly, pressing a kiss to his nose, “I think I can manage forever.”          ⇐⇐⇐

 

He dashes along the street, dodging past passers-by and glancing under every stall’s tent just to be sure. There’s even more people than the last time they came here, naturally, all eager to enjoy the magnificent display of food and fireworks to start off the New Year. He spots the familiar dip to the side of the street just up ahead and Jongin beelines for it eagerly, not even bothering to apologize to the people he bumps into this time. When he finally breaks through the tightly packed crowd of people he skids to a stop before the stone bench—or what’s left of it. It’s a sad sight really; the large slab of stone meant as the seat is broken in half, lying scattered in chunks of stone around the rocks that are still upright. It must have happened back when a vicious storm blew into town a few weeks before, uprooting trees and blowing cars astray. The fairy lights just above the bench are out, swaying forlornly in the night breeze. Jongin doesn’t want to think about the symbolic image of the sad little scene, turning his back on the ruins with a heart that’s too heavy for his chest, and warps out.

 

 

Jongin can’t remember the last time he warped so many times in a row. The migraine pounding in his skull is growing more intense and he’s starting to lose feeling in his extremities now, his fingers and toes ice cold and numb. He’s starting to see double but he shakes himself, trying to pull it together as he warps from one place to another, into every corner he can think of that Kyungsoo might even consider running off to, to get some space. He goes to the pier, the little playground by the school, the bridge looking over the dried out lake, the roof of the abandoned factory with the stellar view of the city, _everywhere_. Despite using his tunnels to travel quickly, Kyungsoo can’t stay underground for too long but it’s starting to seem like Kyungsoo has disappeared off the face of the earth.

Jongin nearly slips when he next lands on the polished floors of the airport, shielding his eyes against the stark light after having been outdoors in the darkness of the night for so long. The lump in his throat almost seems like a permanent fixture at this point, and he blinks back the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. He sways on the spot for a moment, waiting until his knees stop feeling like they’re about to buckle before he can even gauge where to start looking first. It’s been a while since he was here last. Jongin had been terrified of moving from Korea all the way to the States to finish off his final year of university there. Warpers are powerful but they cannot travel across countries and seas for the most part; he’s definitely not strong enough for that. It’s jarring to feel so disconnected from somewhere he’s always able to return to, from somewhere that’s always only ever been a single breath away.

 

⇒⇒⇒           The moment they step off the plane and move into arrivals at the airport, Jongin has trouble breathing, panic washing over him completely because the shift is huge, home is so far out of reach and he feels terribly small and lost.

Kyungsoo immediately latches onto his wrist, tugging him towards a row of plastic seats and sits him down on one, dropping his bags haphazardly to the floor in favour of cupping Jongin’s face, urging him to breathe.

“We can go back,” Kyungsoo tells him, his thumbs pressing into the skin of his cheeks. He hold Jongin’s face steady, coaxing into matching the pace of his own breathing.

“What—wait no I’ll… I’ll be okay I just—this is—” Jongin tries to suck in enough air to calm his heaving chest, willing himself to stop shaking. Kyungsoo drops his hands after deeming Jongin calm enough. “We need to stay.”

“But we can go back,” Kyungsoo says again, shaking his head quickly when Jongin looks to interject again in confusion. “Here. This is where we need to be if we want to go home. We’re closer to home here; after all it’s only a plane ride away.”

Exhaling shakily, Jongin slumps back against the seat and stares dolefully out of the glass panes at the planes on the runway, following one of them up into the air as it takes off. He’s already terribly homesick and they’ve only just set foot here. It just… this place doesn’t seem like it could ever feel like home did. Flushing, Jongin bows his head, feeling apologetic and embarrassed for being so ridiculous.

“For what it’s worth, I can’t feel it either.”

Jongin blinks and turns to stare at Kyungsoo when his voice comes out unusually soft. His eyes are trained outside the windows and Jongin takes a moment to trace the profile of his face in the sunlight, following the sweet curve of his cheeks and the strong line of his nose before coming back to himself.

“Feel it?” he asks, cocking his head curiously.

Kyungsoo tears his eyes away from the runway to look at Jongin with a small smile, looking suddenly as homesick and wistful as Jongin feels.

“Home,” he murmurs, “the familiar feel of the ground, the earth, the tremors of the people and the trains. The familiar vibrations I’ve lived with my whole life. I can’t feel them from over here it’s… it’s all different. Stilted.”

He stares at his upturned palms on his lap for a moment, frowning like it’s their fault there’s emptiness where familiarity once was. Jongin reaches out and fits his hand into Kyungsoo’s, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Turning to look at him, Kyungsoo’s lips twist into a small smile.

“If things ever get bad, we’ll just come here,” he says, and Jongin can’t tell if he’s trying to reassure himself or Jongin. “We could stay here for a while. It’s comforting, like we’re already halfway home, right?

He smiles wider, the confidence growing in his voice. “If it gets really bad, we could leave. We’ll go home and then we’ll come back and start over. And we’ll do it better.”

It works. Kyungsoo’s certainty rubs off on Jongin, feeling eons better knowing there’s a failsafe to fall back to if all else goes wrong. Nodding eagerly, he turns back to face the windows, watching the planes come and go just a little while longer.           ⇐⇐⇐

 

Jongin takes off, dashing to the familiar plastic seats and rushing past every aisle, checking every checkpoint but all the faces are unfamiliar. He tries every corner of the giant airport where the runway can be seen, his shoes squeaking loudly on the polished floors as he jogs from one end to the other. His heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might rip right through his chest even as he bends over for a breather, his hands on his knees.

“Jongin?”

Whirling around, Jongin turns towards the familiar voice in surprise.

“Jongdae-hyung!”

His old university friend looks a little frazzled, his scarf sloppily strewn across his neck and his bangs falling messily across his forehead. He’s dragging a large suitcase behind him and struggling to hoist a heavy rucksack higher up his shoulders. He beams at Jongin though, as brightly and easily as ever, reaching out to grab him in a one armed hug which Jongin gladly reciprocates.

“It’s good to see you!” Jongdae smiles warmly after letting him go. “What are you doing here, are you going somewhere?”

He eyes Jongin’s empty hands, noting the absence of any packed bags.

Jongin swallows. The ache in his chest and bones washes over him again in a wave of pain and exhausting. Unable to help it, his eyes dart around, scanning every passerby’s face in search of a familiar one.

“I’m looking for Kyungsoo,” he mumbles quietly, focusing on Jongdae’s coat buttons, unable to bring himself to meet Jongdae’s eyes. The guilt gnaws more insistently on his insides, the growing regret and shame clawing harder and harder at his chest because he’s ruined things so _beyond_ badly.

“How about you?” he follows up quickly, eying the plane ticket and passport clasped in Jongdae’s hand. “Going somewhere nice?”

To Jongin’s infinite appreciation, Jongdae doesn’t pry, instead looking down at his own passport with a sheepish smile.

“I was going home actually,” he says, waving his ticket to South Korea; “My car broke down though; missed my flight. The plane took off a couple of hours ago.”

Jongin feels the blood drain from his face.

_“Mr. Kim Jongdae. Could Mr. Kim Jongdae please report to the main desk, please.”_

Jongdae looks up at the intercom voice, lips parting slightly as he hears his name called out.

“I have to go, I’m sorry Jongin,” he says, hurrying to gather his bags up again, stuffing his passport into his coat pocket. He pauses before he turns to walk away, biting his lip as he looks at Jongin with a worried arch in his eyebrows.

“I hope you find him,” he says sincerely, reaching a hand out to squeeze Jongin’s arm reassuringly. Then he turns, pulling his suitcase behind him and walks away, disappearing through the throng of people.

Jongin can’t move. His feet feel heavy, anchoring him to the spot even though his head is spinning, out of control. He shuffles slowly towards the first row of plastic chairs he can find and slumps down on one heavily. He’s looked everywhere he can possibly think of for Kyungsoo.

_‘If it gets really bad, we could leave.’_

He hasn’t been able to reach him on his phone; _heck_ , Luhan couldn’t even sense him and the flight back home to Korea left hours ago. He can’t find Kyungsoo _anywhere_ and it’s starting to sink in that maybe he’s just gone; he left. He left _him_. Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, Jongin pulls out the golden band, smooth and cool against the skin of his palm. This is all so wrong. Jongin made a promise, and having Kyungsoo’s ring in his hands may as well mean he’s broken it.

The ring blurs and Jongin pressed the heel of his palm into his eye, clenching them shut as he tucks the ring back into his pocket. He gets to his feet shakily and warps out of the airport.

 

 

He stumbles onto a familiar lawn before his mind even properly catches up with what his body is doing. He lands right in the middle of the pristine flower patch. It’s terribly ironic to be here, of all places, but deep down he knows this had to happen at some point. He doesn’t know where else to go anyway.

His legs are jelly as he drags himself up along the cobbled path; he can’t tell if it’s from the exhaustion or crippling apprehension. He can see the lights shining through the windows, able to see the movement from people inside even through the sheer curtains.

Propelling himself the last few steps forward, he raises a shaky fist to knock but the door opens before he even touches the polished wood. It takes everything he has to brace himself on the doorframe just to stop him from keeling right over.

“Jongin?”

Swallowing through the lump wedged in his throat, Jongin pushes himself up quickly, swaying dizzily on the balls of his feet before he finds his centre. Pushing his back straight, poised and rigid, he crosses his hands, right palm on the back of his left hand just below his navel. The perfect posture.

“Hi, Mum.”

“I was worried you might not show up at all!” his mother exclaims, looking relieved by his presence. She peers around him, eyes searching. “You said you were bringing a friend with you?”

“Mum, do you love me?”

Jongin’s mother gapes, jaw hanging thunderstruck, her expression clouding with the slightest hint of hurt before being swallowed up by confusion.

“What are you—of course I—”

“I mean all of me,” Jongin cuts in, his voice breaking, feeling his composure breaking with him. He’s tired, miserable and the hollow ache in his chest is clawing a hole right through him. It feels unreal, standing here once again before his mother, vulnerable and fragile, like a page ripped right out of a chapter in his life he had hope he’d never have to revisit. “Could you love all of me?”

_Could you love all of me?_

He deflates just as his mother clamps her mouth shut, all the blood draining from her face. This right here, _this_ is familiar. She swallows, visibly struggling to do so; the echo of the same words clearly seeming to resound in her memories.

 

⇒⇒⇒          It’s extremely rare that a child is born with not only one, but two abilities in their genes, but it is not unheard of. Coming from a long, esteemed line of pure Warpers, Jongin is the first exception to his family name.

He doesn’t find out about his second ability until his fourteenth birthday when, for the first time since he learnt to warp naturally as a toddler, he finds himself unable to teleport. His body just locks and refuses to come apart and warp through space, instead heavily anchoring him to the spot. He’s late for school that day, having no choice but to sprint out the door of his house and race to catch the bus instead.

At first, he thinks he might have come down with something, a virus of some sort that might be affecting the precise balance of his body, somehow obstructing the proper recombination of his molecules whenever he warps. The migraine that nearly incapacitates him a week later only serves to solidify his theory; his mother lets him stay in bed in favour of going to school for a couple of days when he burns up so badly he doesn’t go a second without some kind of ice pack on his forehead. He chooses not to tell her about his flurry of mood shifts and the sudden onslaught of chest pain that hits him out of nowhere.

It’s a little jarring, being so grounded without his warping abilities; gravity feels that much heavier when he’s tethered to it so firmly. He doesn’t have enough time to spare towards worrying about that though when experiences what feels like a truck puncturing through his chest for the first time when he finally steps out of the house. Rage, joy, love, jealousy, bliss, _emotions_ ; an colossal tidal wave and none of them are his.

It takes a while to figure out what they are but he pieces it together fairly easily when he hears his sister arguing with her boyfriend on the phone in the next room one day. He can feel the misplaced hurt and misery swirling in the pit of his own stomach, mimicking what his sister must be feeling judging by the sounds of her crying. Tentatively peeking into her room once the call has ended, he knocks on the door with his foot, balancing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in his hands and sees her face light up, smiling gratefully. He watches her relax—and he feels it. He feels the comfort evident in her eyes, in the way her shoulders loosen up, blanketing over the sadness until it melts into the background. It soaks right into him, coursing through his veins and filling his entire body up with warmth that spreads right down to his toes. It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath but it feels _amazing_. It only adds to his own happiness at seeing his sister smile again.

School is a whirlwind of feelings, an overwhelming influx of sensations pooling in from everyone, everywhere, filling him up to the brim until he fears he might explode. Moonkyu’s hope dipping in his own stomach as the boy anticipates his test grade, Soojung’s fear prickling in his veins as she speaks nonchalantly about her recital in an hour, Taemin’s sadness reverberating in Jongin’s chest even as the other smiles to cover up what clearly seems to be a terrible day for him.

It’s like there’s an entire new universe beneath everything that Jongin can see, an invisible parallel between people and everything they try to lock within themselves. It’s a whole new structure to who they are and Jongin’s the only one who can see it; who can feel it.

He curls up in a corner of the library during lunch period, a pile of books at his feet as he flips through the pages of encyclopedias and ability classification books trying to figure out exactly where he falls under.

An Empath. Nothing flashy, nothing prestigious that reigns at the top of the hierarchy like teleportation does. Jongin finds that it doesn’t bother him in the least, thrilled with this Empathy in a way that Warping never made him. Staring at his palms curled up loosely on his lap, he chews on his lower lip pensively, wondering for a moment what he can actually _do_ as an Empath.

The sudden roil of anxiety in his stomach has him whipping his head up, recognizing the foreign feel to it. He can’t see much from where he’s tucked away behind the towering bookcases so he gets to his feet, peeking around to scan the library for the source. There are a handful of people scattered across the room, occupying the tables as they work on papers and pore over textbooks. The agitated stirring in his gut churns uncomfortably and he focuses on trying to gauge who it’s coming from. His eyes slip from one bowed head to another, frowning until he comes across a face he recognizes from his own class.

Seulgi’s arms are motionless on the table, framing her open book as she scans the contents of the pages, her thick hair falling past her cheeks in a curtain that nearly conceals her face. Her expression is smooth, but Jongin still catches the single quiver of her bottom lip and the way her hand shakes when she runs it through her hair to push it out of her eyes. Squinting harder, he catches sight of the scattered numbers on the pages before her, finally recognizing the math book they use in class. Jongin tugs at his collar as the anxiety escalates into a burning disquiet, swallows through the tightness in his throat and broods over what to do. Finals are just around the corner; he wonders why she doesn’t just ask for help if she doesn’t understand.

_That’s it._

_That’s_ what he can do, he can _help_. The answer to his previous musings suddenly comes to him, realization hitting him of just how _much_ he can do. Emotions are so fragile, buried deep inside and only rising to the surface when they’re overwhelming enough. True feelings are so delicate, like exposing a side of yourself to a world that might not even be ready to handle the intricacies of sentiment. Be it pride, be it fear, be it denial; people will never fully admit to the way they’re feeling. It’s a vulnerability he’s seen with his own young eyes, in the way his mother still smiles at him after getting into a row with his father. He’s seen it in yesterday’s popular kid, plastering on a smirk in front of his ‘fanclub’ even though his eyes are dull.

Jongin sees it now, in Seulgi’s denial and her reluctance to admit to herself that she hasn’t understood a thing.

Wiping his sweaty palms against his pants, he takes a deep breath and makes towards her table.

“H-hi Seulgi!” he curses mentally at how weakly his voice comes out, but keeps his smile steady to hide his nerves.

Seulgi whips her head up, startled at the sudden introduction as she stares up at him wide eyed. They’ve never spoken beyond a few sparse greetings every now and then but she still remembers his name, recognition blooming in her eyes.

Lowering his eyes to the book spread out before her before raising them back up, Jongin chirps earnestly, “Oh, you’re doing Math! Hey, d’you mind if I could run something by you? I’m not sure I really got what Ms. Jung was saying the other day.”

“Uhm—I don’t—” Seulgi is chewing her bottom lip, and he can feel the lump growing in his throat again. “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about math, to be honest…”

“It’s okay! We can try helping each other out, right?” Jongin beams as wide as he can, feeling Seulgi’s nervousness gnawing at his gut along with his own. He hopes his approach came off as unobtrusively as he’d intended.

Seulgi seems to consider it for a moment, eyes darting down to her blank workbook before looking back up. She grins back at him, shoulders relaxing but it’s the crashing wave of her overwhelming relief that nearly has his knees buckling which really reassures him. There’s prickles of gratitude easing the tightness in his chest and the lump disappears away as quickly as the distressed frown fades from Seulgi’s face.

“That’d be really great Jongin, thanks!”

 

-

 

He hasn’t warped in over two weeks and Jongin doesn’t even miss it. He’s far too engrossed with every new facet he can see in people, enjoying the depth and complexities he comes across. He doesn’t miss warping because he’s already come to love this too much, he loves that he can understand people better, that he can ease their distress, that he can dole out a bout of comfort when they won’t say it but clearly want it. It makes him _happy_. It feels like more than just something he can do; it feels like it’s a part of him, of who he is.

His parents have chalked his warpless state up to puberty and his raging hormones possibly affecting his ability, both of them eager for this phase to pass quickly, but Jongin knows better. He knows how the biology of the genes works and he finds that he’s a little terrified.

There’s only enough energy in the body for one ability at a time before the entire system implodes, meaning he has to choose. Picking one over another means reinforcing the strength of the chosen one so that the other dies out by basic extinction.

That part’s easy. The hard part is telling his parents he doesn’t want to be a Warper anymore. Jongin walks into the kitchen to find his mother slicing up some carrots for lunch. He’s frozen with fear but he swallows it down, forcing himself to take another step forward because it’ll definitely be okay; she’s his mum, she’ll love him anyway.

“Mum?” he calls softly, stepping closer. He has to make sure. “Mum, do you love me?”

Blinking in surprise, his mother turns her head to look at him, “What kind of question is that? Of course I love you, sweetheart!”

Swallowing down the anticipation, Jongin tries again, “Could you love all of me?”

Her hand stills over the half diced carrots, frowning at her son’s odd questions. “Yes _of course_ , Jonginnie. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Jongin licks his lips, taking a deep breath and tells her everything, studying her face anxiously for her reaction, praying to see warmth. But the knife falls out of her hand once he’s done, any traces of the smile she had on her face slipping off and to leave behind only shock and disgust.

“A _Feeler_?” she hisses in disbelief, raising a hand up to her forehead. “How could this happen? Where did we go wrong?”

Her face twists but it’s the burn of her rage seeping in through every pore of his body that hits Jongin the hardest, the swirl of her disgust pooling in his gut and her shame stabbing a hole through his chest. Stunned, Jongin tries to push on, “I—I really want to keep it—”

“Absolutely not!” his mother snaps immediately, staring at him incredulously like she can’t believe he would suggest such a thing. “What would your father think? What would all our friends think?”

Her appalled words cut deep, like a knife wedged right in his heart. He can feel the prickles of tears burning in the corners of his eyes, willing his heart not to shatter because he’ll shatter right with it. He’s confused, so terribly confused; he doesn’t understand why she’s so angry, why he can’t feel a trace of warmth or love from her like she just promised him ten seconds ago.

“Mum, please,” he begs, the first stray tear rolling down the side of his nose. “I’m still _me_! It’s just a part of me, it’s who I am. Can’t… can’t you still love _me_?”

“Not like this,” she snaps, nostrils flaring, “Not like some dog sniffing into people’s affairs. It's dirty, invasive behavior! I refuse to allow this into my family!”

There’s a twinge of something in his stomach, rising in his throat but he swallows it down, refusing to register it because it feels too much like hate.

“We’ll just have to snuff it out. You will be a Warper like the rest of us,” she says curtly, a note of finality in her tone and leaves no room for objection.

She stays true to her word, taking it upon herself to drill a regimen of intensive training and exhausting Jongin to the bone until Warping is all there is in his blood.

_‘Find your centre; inhale, keep your spine straight, pull your shoulders back and hold.’_

Training day in day out, until he’s too worn out to feel anything but numb.

_“Hands crossed, yes, like that, under your navel. Keep them strong, keep your body balanced; there, excellent. Posture is everything.’_

In the end of course his father finds out, and his reaction is no different than his mother’s. “No son of mine is going to be a filthy _Empath_.”

“ _Focus on every molecule of your body, block everything else out until all you hear is the sound of your heart and your blood pumping in your veins. Let nothing distract you, just warp.”_

He trains until he has every single word of his mother’s strict instructions burned into his brain, drilled into him like an art. And Jongin lets it happen because he’s fourteen and his parents’ approval is everything to him.

He lets it happen until the empathy truly begins to fade and no matter how much he keeps reaching out, the wisps of emotions slip through his fingers like smoke until he can’t feel them at all. He can’t feel anything except emptiness in his chest, heavy with hollow misery and shame. He _let_ them make him rip away a part of himself, the part that meant the most to him.

So Jongin shuts himself off. He doesn’t speak to his parents, doesn’t even look at them for a long, _long_ time after that. He gets himself out of that house the first chance he can and shuts them out of his life where they can’t make him break another part of himself.           ⇐⇐⇐

 

It took a long time, years upon years, until he forgave them, but he never forgot.

He hasn’t quite been able to forget the way they made him feel about himself and he’s only ever known to feel ashamed. Ashamed for letting himself get too consumed by the frame of perfection his family caged around him, for letting himself feel trapped in it even after leaving the picture. His entire being is wracked with the shame of being too weak to truly show the world what he loves and what makes him feel whole. It’s how he’s coped all those years after breaking it off with his family, how he’s shelled himself in, too afraid that he’s still vulnerable and far too weak to protect the things, the _people_ , that make him happy.

He loves them, even after everything. It’s been a long time and the memories are ingrained in his bones. He forgets that he’s no longer a child vying for his parents’ approval like it’s the center of his world. Because Kyungsoo is the one whose approval matters the most, the only thing that should matter at all.

“Jonginnie,” his mother’s voice pulls him back from his thoughts and Jongin focuses on his mother’s face, the old ache of wishing he could _feel_ what she’s thinking reverberating in his body.

“Your father and I,” she swallows, wringing her hands as she furrows her brows, looking up at Jongin with glassy eyes. “We’ve made a lot of mistakes, we know that.”

Jongin’s heart thunders painfully in his chest but he waits until she goes on, hardly daring to breathe.

“We should never have done what we did to you,” she says, her voice growing shaky and Jongin doesn’t need his Empathy to read the regret and sincerity on her face. “We didn’t do our part as parents. We lost you back then and I’m _so_ sorry, Jongin.”

She starts to cry softly and Jongin feels tears streaking down his own face.

“We’ll do better by you,” she promises, latching onto his hands and squeezing them, “Whatever it is, we’ll do better by you, as long as you’re happy.”

Choking down a sob, Jongin throws his arms around her, hugging her tightly to his chest and she holds on to him tightly.

“Is that who you were bringing tonight?” she whispers, her voice muffled in his shoulder, “Was it someone special?”

Pulling away, Jongin scrubs the tears away with his fists, hesitating and biting his lip for a moment.

“He’s everything to me.”

His mother blinks and Jongin holds his breath for a few seconds before her face breaks into a smile, eyes crinkling into crescents. “I’d love to meet him.”

Beaming through his tears, Jongin pulls her into a hug again, exchanging a few more words before he waves goodbye, and warps out.

 

 

He’s got nowhere left to go but back home.

He lands a few metres away from the cobbled path, wobbling right towards a tree but he throws a hand out in time to steady himself. The thorn of misery digs into his gut again, because he’s out of options and Kyungsoo is still gone. Jongin is at his limit, his limbs so heavy it feels like they might fall off his body altogether.

“Jongin!”

That voice. Jerking his head up, he clears his hazy vision and _god_ he’s there, stumbling to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the steps of the porch.

“Kyungsoo,” he chokes out, his voice breaking as he barrels forward. He trips over his own feet, seeing flashes of a memory from their first week in the States when they’d gotten separated at the market and Jongin had nearly collapsed from searching for him in a frenzy, neither of them comfortable with their new surroundings yet. He’d warped to the only other place he knew back then, back to their house where Kyungsoo was waiting for him too, rushing to hold him and reassure him that everything’s fine.

_“I’ll always come back home.”_

Kyungsoo stretches his arms out to meet him halfway and Jongin collapses right into his arms, feeling completely boneless, worn out but finally _exactly_ where he wants to be.

Warping means that gravity has never had any hold over him but Kyungsoo is the force that tethers Jongin down; he’s the one who keeps him grounded and makes him feel like he has a place to come back to.

Circling his arms tightly around Kyungsoo’s waist, he buries his face in his neck, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, _I’m so sorry_.”

“Christ, Jongin, where have you _been_? You’ve been gone for hours!” Kyungsoo hisses, but he’s got his arms circled firmly around Jongin’s neck with a hand buried in his hair and he’s here.

“I thought you’d left,” Jongin croaks, exhausted tears leaking from his eyes.

“Well I did, but it was just for an hour—”

“No,” Jongin shakes his head, keeping his nose pressed into Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “I thought you _left_.” He lets ‘me’ go unsaid but he knows Kyungsoo understood him. “I thought you were gone. You took off your ring.”

“I just went to clear my head,” Kyungsoo murmurs, dragging his nails gently along the back of his scalp. “And I just took off my ring because we were baking, silly.”

He pauses. “Truth be told, I thought _you_ might have left.”

Jongin squeezes his arms tighter around Kyungsoo’s waist, relief crashing through his entire body and he leans heavily against Kyungsoo when his knees begin to buckle.

“Jongin, we’re going to fall,” Kyungsoo chuckles, struggling to keep them both upright.

“But you’ll catch me right?” Jongin mumbles tiredly into his neck, refusing to pull away.

Kyungsoo tch’s under his breath, tapping the heel of his shoe once against the ground. A slab of stone upsurges slowly from the ground, sending light tremors under their feet until a low ledge rises right behind Kyungsoo for him to sit on, Jongin still heavy in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, hyung,” Jongin whispers into his skin, “I really screwed up.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, his hand still stroking the back of his head and Jongin summons up all his energy to pull away, wanting to see his face.

He doesn’t look angry. His face is pulled tight with worry, eyes suspiciously shiny but he doesn’t look as furious as he should be. Kyungsoo looks up at the night sky before turning to him again.

“C’mon,” he says, tightening his arms around Jongin securely, “let’s go to the roof.”

He taps his heel again and forces the earth beneath them up, taking them higher until they’re on the same level as the roof of their house.

They settle down side by side, leaning against the wall and Jongin nearly cries at finally being off his feet. There’s no time to rest though; he needs to explain.

“Before you say anything,” Kyungsoo beats him to it, “I’m sorry. I said some pretty awful things to you earlier and I left even though I _knew_ there had to be more to it. I just… I didn’t wait around to hear it.”

Jongin protests, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize,” he mumbles, sidling up closer against Kyungsoo’s side to bury his face in his warm neck again, “I’m the one who fucked up, I’m so sorry; I love you, I’ve always loved you and there’s no excuse for what I did.”

Turning his head, Kyungsoo presses a kiss into his hair. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

His hand creeps onto Jongin’s thigh, palm upturned, and Jongin fits his fingers into the grooves of his hands easily, squeezing tightly.

Kyungsoo holds on to him through all of it as Jongin tells him everything that he’s been keeping locked up, explaining all the things that happened as a kid, all the fears that had been following him up till now, bearing down on his every move, his every thought. He doesn’t cry, not this time, and Kyungsoo doesn’t stop rubbing his thumb into the back of Jongin’s hand even after he’s done talking.

“You’re so silly,” Kyungsoo sighs, leaning his head against Jongin’s.

“I know, I’m so—”

“I wish you would’ve just told me,” he laments, cutting off Jongin’s fresh stream of apologies. “I would have understood, you know. Give me more credit.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin mumbles again, squeezing Kyungsoo’s hand in case he thinks of letting go. He pulls his head away from Kyungsoo’s neck to meet his eyes but he barely has time to blink before Kyungsoo leans forward and kisses him. He feels Kyungsoo’s hand come up to cup his cheek gently, kissing insistently until Jongin’s mouth falls open and he kisses him deeper, sucking lightly on his lower lip and Jongin can’t imagine forgiveness ever being so sweet. Kyungsoo pulls away from his lips but keeps their foreheads pressed together and Jongin leans in to kiss his cheek softly.

The sound of fireworks exploding in the distance has him jerking upright, staring at the colours painting the sky in the distance.

“Did we miss the countdown?” he pushes his bottom lip out, bummed.

He feels Kyungsoo’s breathy chuckle against his skin right before he presses his lips to Jongin’s jaw.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Jongin fumbles around, digging his hands into his pockets until he find the ring and pulls it out, watching the way Kyungsoo’s face lights up.

“So, uh, still wanna marry me?” Jongin says meekly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, holding out his hand so Jongin can slide the ring onto his finger, right where it belongs.

Kyungsoo leans in to kiss him again, sliding his hand back into his hair to pull him closer.

“I meant it when I said forever,” he breathes against his lips, beaming.

**Author's Note:**

> [LJ link](http://sleepydanceur.livejournal.com/15208.html).


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